The Keys to Heaven and Hell
by urban-story-queen
Summary: Following the events in Transalvania, Van Hellsing has become a much colder man. But what will happen if he was given a second chance? What if Anna isn't the last of her family? And what is the Key to Heaven and Hell? Only time will tell... Rated T.
1. Chapter 1

Van Helsing 2. The Key to Heaven and Hell.

Location: Some where outside Belgium.

The night was as vile as they come. The wind blew like it wanted to wipe out the small, lonely house that stood steadfastly against it. The cottage belonged to Daphne, the only midwife within 100 miles of Brussels. Tonight, with no patients, and the weather not allowing any visitors, she had nothing better to do then retire to bed early, and pray that the roof was still over her head when she awoke the next morning.

However, fate had other ideas about Daphne's evening. So did the large stranger who was staggering up the garden path, fighting the storm to Daphne's door. It took Daphne's a while to respond to the frantic pounding on her door.

Cursing softly, she staggered out of bed, pulled a warn robe across her shoulders and reached for the door.

The two people she saw upon her doorstep would have confirmed that if she wasn't dreaming, she was having a nightmare!

From the outline of the light, she could make out that one visitor was a man, but he was taller then any man she had ever seen. She couldn't see his face; it was hidden too deeply within his cowl. In his arms, he carried a young, very pregnant woman, whose deep, frantic breaths told Daphne that she was in the early stages of labor.

"Please, help her, let us in!" The large man half barked, half pleaded. Daphne had no time to think, because the woman gasped, squeezed her companions sleeve and tried to choke back a groan. Suddenly she remembered who she was, and why this odd couple had come to her for her aid.

"Come in, Come in quickly!" She ordered, ushering them over her threshold, and beginning to prepare her work space. She ran to her table, ripped off the table cloth, threw it into a nearby linen chest, exchanging it for a clean sheet, and throwing it haphazardly across the bench. Gesturing for the man to lay the woman down upon its wooden surface, she poured water from a bucket and placed it onto a wooden fire to warm. She glanced out the corner of her eye, taking in the large visitor. She almost gasped when she saw him in the light. His face was still hidden by his dirty and old cloche, but his hands where a stark contrast to those of his companions, whose he was holding reassuringly. His hands were the size of snow shovels. They were rough, scared and ghastly white, almost green.

"They were the hands of a corpse!" Thought Daphne. She gave herself a mental slap. "Ignore him. Your duty is to that poor girl and her child. The man is none of your concern." She returned to the table with more sheets and some herbs.

"Stay strong, Nadia." Said the man, soothingly.

He shoots a quick look at Daphne. "Will she be safe if I leave here?"

"You want to leave! In that?"

As if on queue, a bolt of lightning crashed to earth, shaking the ground.

"I have no choice, there is something I must do."

"Very well. The delivery room is no place for men anyway."

"I will return, Nadia." He paused, and then he lent close to her ear and whispered in a voice choked with emotion:

"I am going to make you and your baby safe, I give you my word I will make you safe."

He gently kissed her fore head, turned, and with surprising speed, crossed to the door and left, running with powerful strides into the night, swallowed by the rage of the storm. Leaving Daphne and Nadia to the task at hand.

Chap 2.

The telegraph station master raised the bottle to his lips and drank deeply of the remaining, warming contents. He smacked his lips, threw the empty bottle over his shoulder (missing the bin by miles) and laid his head against the back of his chair, resting his feet upon his desk. He savored the warmth of his office, compared to the din of the storm outside. Suddenly, the door opened with a violent BANG!

The station master received such a shock; he rolled of his chair, and lay confused, disorientated and drunk upon the floor. He had just enough time to stammer a slurred "Who-what-who?" before a large fist swung at his jaw, knocking him cold. The intruder caught him as he fell.

"I am sorry my friend, but I haven't the time for questions right now."

And with that, he crossed to the instrument table, re-arranged some wires, and began to tap out an urgent massage:

URGANT, TO GABRIEL VEN HELSING, CARE OF THE VATICAN, ITALY, EUROPE.

Van Helsing-stop

Need yourself and Karl to come to Belgium, Urgent-Stop.

Need assistance- stop.

Anna was not the last Valerious-stop.

Regards, Frankenstein-stop.

Ps. Bring weapons.-stop. Big ones- Stop.

When the station master awoke, a good half hour later, he was back in his chair, his hat lying over his face, a fresh bottle of brandy resting on the table. Was he dreaming? Had someone knocked him unconscious?

Deciding he was too tired to care, he cracked open the new bottle, swallowed deeply, and considered again if it was to early to allow his son to take over so he could retire to the south of France…

The end of Chapter 2.

Chapter 3.

Karl could tell something was wrong by the way Van Helsing nearly trampled him into the stonework of the Vatican's floor. He had just received a telegram, and had barley glanced over it once before his brows knitted together and his face went white, and he had stormed away without apologizing to the group of nuns he almost steamrolled. This could only mean one thing; trouble was brewing. It also meant he was going to get dragged into it, no matter how much he insisted that he wasn't a field man… Nothing else to do but prepare for the worst.

Picking up his spilt books, Karl speed walked down the Vatican's spacious hallways and tunnels and made his way to the laboratory. Ducking and weaving among the various scientists and their assistance who worked busily on their own projects, Karl walked to his own work station and began to browse his selection of weapons.

"Hmmmmm… Defiantly the pump action crossbow…stakes, check. Holy water, yep, probably need that. Milk of Magnesia… well, might as well, luck favors the prepared. Holy water pistol, might keep that for myself this time… Now a few phosphorous magic charms, I think that should do it. Now to wait for Van Helsing and I can show him the newer toys…"

"Oooooh, his eminence is miffed." Muttered Brother James. Karl followed his gaze, and saw that the cardinal was in fact very very angry. He was standing at the top of the workshop staircase, nose to nose with Van Helsing. Even though he couldn't hear, he could guess what they were fighting about. A new mission.

Karl remembered a time when these arguments were always about how Van Helsing's desire not to go on missions. He used to say that he regretted killing monsters, because he always had to watch as they turned back into the men they once were. But since Anna… he sighed. Van Helsing had returned to the Vatican a colder man. Now the fights between the Cardinal and Van Helsing were usually over whether or not Van Helsing could accomplish a mission while at least trying to keep their quarry in one piece. Ah, now the fight was over. Karl watched the cardinal throw his gloved hands in the air in exasperation before walking away. Now Van Helsing proceeded down the staircase and began to head in Karl's direction, but instead of dodging between the scientists, he noted that his fellow lab technicians simply moved out of his way as quickly as possible.

He was like a dark Moses, parting a sea of human bodies.

Trying to appear conversational, Karl pretended to examine the aiming mechanism of the cross bow.

"Another mission Van Helsing?"

"Always. What do you have for me this time Karl?"

Karl ignored the abruptness in his friends tone. Van Helsing rarely joked these days.

"I have your usual cross bow; which now has a newer aiming site." He picked up the weapon of question and, struggling, held it to his shoulder.

"Using the new cross hairs, you will be able to aim the bow with a 60% increase in accuracy. It even has a new feature we call "Night vision" so you will be able to shoot in the dark."

Van Helsing took the bow from Karl and readied it with the ease of a consort violinist and his favorite instrument. He loaded an arrow, turned sharply, and fired an arrow. It flew across the room, skimmed through the crowd and straight through a cup of water that a young monk was drinking out of, pinning it to the wall next to him.

"Nice" was all Van Helsing said.

"I also want to show you some new inventions. This…" Karl picked up a large plait of metal breast plate "is the newest in defense technology. It is a suit of armor, insulated with willow, wolves' bane and lavender. A sure protection against spells and curses. Also slightly effective against bullets."

"And this is something very very new. My latest invention, the blow gun."

Karl picked the blow gun from the bench and held it in front of him with pride. Van Helsing was un-impressed.

"Karl, it's a stick." Well, it was. It was a long piece of bamboo cane, with a rubber cork at each end.

"Well, yes it is. But, you don't use it to hit your enemies. It's based on the poisonous head hunters of the Amazon basin. You remember, we met them when we were rescuing the missionaries from the pig thing. Anyway, rather then firing poison tipped darts, its ammunition of choice is, these…"  
"Sewing needles?"

"Yes, what? No! These are razor sharp needles mad from the purest silver, forged under the full moon light. Simply load the needles into the blow gun, remove the cork, take aim and blow. If you aim it right at your enemy's heart, it will kill them stone dead. And the best part is, they will never know what hit them. Ideal for sneak attacks, should you choose the element of surprise.

"Hmmmmm. Anything else?"

Nothing very interesting, except I have re-invented the Holy water pistol, with a bigger chamber to store more water. But I am keeping that for myself."  
"Karl, does that mean you are volunteering to come on a mission?"

"What do you mean volunteer? I never volunteer, I get shanghaied!"

"Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to stay behind this time. It sounds very dangerous. But since you are already ready to go…"  
"Wait! Van Helsing!"  
But it was to late, Van Helsing had already picked up his bag of weapons and began striding for the door. All Karl could do was follow after him.

"Wait, Van Helsing, I change my mind! I un-Volunteer! Wait!..."

Meanwhile, across the sea, three clocked figures met by a ragged cliff face.

"Has the time come, sister? What news has though?"  
"Our time is now sisters! They have come! As prophesied, the Key has been born!"

"Our destiny awaits us sisters! The stars are almost in alignment! Away! We must prepare. We cannot fail!"

"We will not fail! Never fear, sisters… I Graymalkin and I shall see to that…

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2, On the sea

**NOTE FROM AUTHOR. Just so you know, this is a dream sequence, and it gets a little bit messy. So, for your convenience, I have put the dream scene in italics, so anyone who may not like blood and iciness can simply skip over anything that **_**looks like this**_**. Cheers!**

**Urban Story Queen.**

_Blood. It was everywhere. The air was red with it. It was all he could see, all he could feel, all he could smell. Dear god, he could even taste it…_

_Men screamed and cried around him, begging for their lives, for death, for help, for God, for Jesus, for their mothers, for anything that would make this nightmare stop. _

"I must stop this."_ He thought. _"I must kill him. That will stop this. That must stop this war. It has to…"

"_**GABRIEL**_!"

_His Christian name, roared in a fit of purest anger, the voice making his blood run cold. He turned, instinctively raising his arm in defense, and cold steel met cold steel as his sword crashed with the sword of his attacker._

_Van Helsing could see him now, his adversary, dressed in full battle armor, his family crest slick with the blood of slain soldiers._

_He knows that crest…_

"_**DRACULAAAAAA!"**_ _His voice surprises him, it roars louder then his foes voice, and he almost doesn't recognize it. It's to deep, to wild to have come from his own lips._

_With a war cry, their swords clash, again and again and again. And the smell of blood grows stronger, and suddenly Van Helsing throws down his armor and weapon. Hair begins to grow all over his body, his teeth stretch his jaw, his nails become claws. Van Helsing turns into a black werewolf and throws himself on his enemy._

_He feels his enemy die. He can taste his dark blood, and smell his lingering fear. He looks down at the body of Vlad Dracula, expecting to feel relieved and satisfied that his greatest foe is dead. _

_**But to his lasting horror, he discovered only the crushed body of Anna Valerious.**_

_The screams of the dying soldiers around him grow to unimaginable pitch, and Van Helsing's voice joins them as he screams in agony, remorse and guilt…_

With a start, Van Helsing wakes up in his bunk, drenched in cold sweat, with the sounds of battle still echoing through his ears. To his relief, he is not in the middle of a battle field, he is still in his cabin, still on the boat, still en route to Belgium. He lies back down, trying to slow his breathing. And closes his eyes and wishes that it was all just a terrible dream...

Meanwhile, on a deserted beach, three cloaked figures gathered. One of the figures held out a slender hand, and gazed into a small, glass sphere. For a second, a spark lit up the globe, and from that spark black fog appeared, filling the glass orb until it became a ball of sinister mist. The figure holding it held it closer to her face, and smiled at what she saw within.

One figure peered over her shoulder and gazed into the misty ball. She pulled back her hood, and revealed that she was a young blond woman who couldn't be older then 21, with blue eyes that sparkled and the moons clear light. She wrinkled a cute, pert nose with disappointment.

"Oh Temperance, I can't see anything. I never get to see anything."

The hooded figure of Temperance pulled her own hood, and revealed a striking older woman of eastern decent. She smiled and with motherly affection kissed the top of the younger woman's head.

"Now don't pout, sweet Heather, you know why you cannot see. You haven't the same gifts as I."

If the third figures face could be seen, we would have known that she was rolling her eyes.

"Heather!" She snapped, "How will Temperance see anything if you do not leave her be?"

"Peace, Melody! I have seen all there is to see! Our enemies are in position. Our plan begins to take effect."

Melody smiled beneath her hood.

"Perfect. Then away, sisters! Our time has come! Temperance, take Harpier and do your duty. Remember, it must look like an accident, or others may grow suspicious. Heather, you must be prepared, incase Temperance fails."

Temperance scowled. She pulled a small whistle from her pocked and blew into it, and the air pushed out a high pitched wail. And from high in the storm clouds, the shriek of a dark creature pierced the night, while the beating of dark wings signaled it's terrible approach.

"**I** will not fail Melody; just see to your end."

Was the last thing that Temperance said before the dark creature picked her up in its talons and flew out to sea, to strike off two passengers from the manifesto of a large ship bound for Belgium.

Heather gave Melody a reassuring smile.

"Temperance won't fail us, sister. She is to smart, to brave to fail. Do not fear; think sunny thoughts, as I do!"

Melody forced a smile, and her left twitched involuntarily.

"Yes, Sister Heather. I will "think sunny thoughts." As you say. I am sure sister Temperance will perform her tasks. Now go! Paddock calls you!"

Her smile broadening with child like excitement, Heather ran to tend to her beloved pet. Leaving Melody brooding on the beach. Melody raised a dainty hand to her neck, and toyed absentmindedly with a strange, ornate red necklace.

"Yes". She mused to herself. "Indeed, my time has come!"

The plot thickens! Will Van Helsing and Karl survive? What do the three women want? And what are Melody's true intentions? Find out in the next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3, The first Attack

Even thought Karl was usually a deep sleeper, Van Helsing's scream of DRACULLAAAAAAA! Was very hard to ignore. He woke up with a start, expecting to see a vampire or a werewolf leaning over him. He leapt from his bunk, tangled his feet in the sheets, tripped over the large bible he kept by his bed and fell to the floor with a resounding THUMP!

He tensed, ready for the claws of an intruder to rake his back. After several long seconds, Karl found the courage to look around his dark cabin. To his relief, though his cabin was mostly in shadow, there was enough moonlight streaming through the port hole to determine that no hidden intruders lurked in the corners. Karl pushed himself to his feet and fumbled for his robes. This was the final day of their long sea voyage, and thanks largely to Van Helsings night terrors Karl had not had a full nights sleep since they had left port. He knew he may regret it, but knew that tonight he must get to the bottom of Van Helsings screams in the night.

* * *

The ocean was unusually still tonight, Van Helsing was pleased to note. The sound of his foot steps fell in time with the gentle waves that lapped against the side of their ship, and for a few moments, he savored the peace and Zen like tranquility of the ocean at night.

Until his sharp hearing picked up the sound of a man walking towards him on tip toes.

Bracing himself, he tried to appear casual by placing one of his hands on the railing of the ship, while his other hand slowly reached into his long coat and griped his favorite weapon; the deadly Tojo blades.

Behind him, the foot steps stopped, and shuffled nervously. Van Helsing let himself inwardly relax, even though outwardly he remained tense. He folded his arms.

"What do you want, Karl?"

"Wa…! Van Helsing! Don't startle me like that!"

"I didn't startle you, you startled yourself."

"With your help!"

An edgy pause filled the air. With his arms still crossed, Van Helsing turned to face Karl, his face a mask of impenetrable, somber stone.

"Karl, what is it you want?"

Karl took a deep breath. Regardless of how much this may hurt both of them; he had to press on now. No turning back, all or nothing.

"I want to talk to you. I.. I…IthinkIknowwhyyoucantsleep."

In his nervousness, his words had all tumbled from his lips as one.

"Pardon?" Van Helsing said, a little bit sharper then he had intended.

Karl took a deep breath, and said as carefully and delicately as he could;

"I think I know why you can't sleep."

Van Helsing inhaled sharply, and raised his chin in an angrily. Something inside him wanted him to snap at Karl, to strike out at him. To tell him that he should mind his own damn business. But he couldn't. There was something about how nervous Karl looked that told him that Karl did not take what he said lightly. His tone didn't hold any of his usual- know –it- all certainty, only the sincerity of a man who wants to help his friend. Even though he knew that said friend could be more terrifying then Dracula, Mr Hyde and a rabid werewolf if crossed. Another pause, even deadlier then the last filled the air.

Van Helsing let out a slow deep breath, and turned his back on Karl to stare over the side of the ship.

"All right Karl. Tell me why can't I sleep."

"Well, It's a question of… of forgiveness."

"Forgiveness?"

"Yes, forgiveness."

Van Helsing shook his head. And for reasons that confused him, in his gut he felt like he had dogged a bullet.

"Karl, go back to bed. Maybe your make more sense in the morning."

Van Helsing pushed past Karl, but with his back to him, he couldn't see the determined look in the friar's eyes.

"Do you remember the day we…said our final farewell to Anna?"

That sentence stopped Van Helsing dead. Karl paused for breath before continuing.

"Do you remember what we saw that day? The pyre was lit, and I was praying. The clouds parted and we saw her. We saw Anna smiling down at us from a better place."

Intuition told him to step forward, and he put a hand on Van Helsings shoulder.

"She forgives you Van Helsing. But you cannot sleep because you have not forgiven yourself."

"Ohhhhhh. How sweet."

Van Helsing and Karl span around, and found themselves confronted with one of the most beautiful older women that they had ever seen. She could easily have been mistaken for Cleopatra's mother. Her long black hair was delicately woven with gray. Her stance and posture radiated regal authority. Her deep tan complexion was not at all marred by the wrinkles that she bore; rather they enhanced her face giving it a commanding and striking aura. She wore a beautifully decorated blue sari, which shone with gold and shimmered as she began to walk towards them. When she spoke, her voice carried a thick Mediterranean accent, but her words were annunciated so precisely that she made her point with deadly clarity.

"I am so sorry to interrupt, gentlemen. But you see, I have some rather… unpleasant business to attend to. Which of you fine gentlemen is Gabriel Van Helsing?"

"That would be me." Van Helsing spoke up. It seemed that the beauty of the newcomer had not impaired his tongue, or his sense of danger, because his right hand was already reaching for the tojo blades.

"…How can I help you mad- ARGH!"

Van Helsings greeting had been cut off by a sudden furious flash of wings and talons. Karl was shocked to feel Van Helsings hot blood hit his chilled face as the unknown creature ripped through Van Helsings thick overcoat and into the flesh of his shoulder. The tojo blade whirled across the deck, hit the railing of the ship and bounced back to the wall. Van Helsing dropped to one knee, clutching his hand to the wound, which was already seeping red into his coat.

"Find cover!" He growled at Karl before the claws swooped again, aiming at his head, but instead tearing at his thick hair.

Karl did not need to be told twice. He bolted, slipping over his robes, throwing himself behind the ships thick mast, trying to make himself smaller so he wouldn't make an easy target. Not that this was too hard to do, because the devil with wings was fixated on attacking Van Helsing first. From his position behind the mast, Karl finally had a better look at the beast.

The moonlight cast a deadly spotlight on Van Helsings latest enemy. It could easily be mistaken for a monstrous black eagle, if you over looked the fact that it had a human head. The black feathers reached the creatures neck, before they became corpse white skin. The creatures human face was twisted into a mask of perfect hatred, its black eyes were holes to an empty soul, and it's claws were becoming red with Van Helsings blood as it dove again and again with lightning fast speed.

"A Harpy…" Karl breathed. "But I thought they lived in Greece?"

Van Helsing was trying to protect his head and face from the talons and beating wings, dodging this way and that trying to find the tojo blades. The beast swooped low, and as its claws dug deep into the unprotected flesh of his back, Van Helsings shout of pain was almost drowned by the cruel laugh of the Harpies beautiful mistress.

"Spare yourself the pain, little man. Jump into the sea! It is where you will end either way."

It was then that Van Helsings scrabbling hand found the deadly little weapon, and flicked the switch. The tojo blades whirled into life, and Van Helsing sliced upwards with all his strength, and was rewarded by the loud in-human shriek of pain from the Harpy. As the Harpy landed upon the mast, Van Helsing smiled.

"I beg your pardon, madam. But if it is my fate that I die at sea, I would much prefer it be somewhere in the Caribbean, at the hands of something a little more intimidating then an old crone and her evil canary!"

The black fury in the woman's face could have rivaled the Harpies.

"ENOUGH! You will not stop us from claiming the key! It is our destiny! HARPIER, DESTROY THIS FOOL! THEN KILL THE LITTLE ONE!"

With a shriek of blood lust, the harpy plunged from the mast, black wings beating like thunder. Van Helsing tensed, ready to repel and attack.

Neither noticed the musical TWANG that filled the air. But they both noticed when the arrow struck the woman in the center of the forehead. She swayed for a second, and then fell lifeless on the ships deck. The harpy pulled up from its dive, staring at its fallen master, its emotions (if it had any) were impossible to determine in its soulless black eyes. Then with a FWOSH from it's black wings, it pulled itself into the sky, it's strange mournful cries filling the night.

Van Helsing breathed a sigh of relief.

"Never trust the quiet ones. Especially if their little, right Karl?" Van Helsing asked.

In the intensity of the battle, no one had noticed Karl slip from behind the mast, run around the ship via the opposite corridor, throw open the door to Van Helsings room, slip inside and retrieve his cross bow.

Now he stood, his simple face showing nothing but shock.

"I…I killed her!" He gasped. "I... but I was aiming for the Harpy! I didn't mean… to… to… Oh god, what have I done?" His knees wouldn't support him anymore, and he fell to the deck, shaking violently.

Van Helsing walked calmly over to the body of the woman. He looked down at her beautiful face one more time, before he casually picked her up and threw her dead corpse over the ships railing. He needed to be ruthless. They were on a mission, and didn't have time to waste answering needless questions from the ships captain and god knew who else. Silently, he walked over to Karl and helped him to his feet, and practically carried his dead wait back to his cabin.

"Karl, you only did what you had to."

* * *

Two lone figures waited upon the beach. From the sky, Harpier returned. It landed upon the dark sand in front of one of a young blond woman, who crouched in front of it, grinning. The Harpy opened its mouth and sang to her, softly. And as it sang, the smile was wiped from the young girls face.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Her anguished scream ripped the still night air, drawing the attention from the second woman.

"Heather!" She demanded: "What did Harpier tell you? What has happened?"

"Oh Melody! Temperance! She…she… oh no. nononononooooo" And then Heather collapsed, lost in her grief.

Melody stood as still as stone, and let Heather cry for a few moments. Then, with the grace of a tiger, she walked forward and pulled the sobbing girl to her feet.

"That is enough Heather!" She said sharply. "What happened? Tell me what Harpier said to you! Has Temperance been slain by Van Helsing."

Heather hiccupped. "Sniff No. It was his friend! Harpier says he shot her with a bow and arrow. She failed. Now we will not get the Key! And Temperance died for nothing! Oh Melody what will we do?"

"I will tell you what we will do." Said Melody, her voice deadly calm. "We will not give up. Is that what Temperance would have wanted Heather? No! She would want us to continue in our quest! And because she could not succeed, it is up to you! Run now, find Paddock, and have him his forest allies. If we strike now, revenge will be ours!"

"Yes…" Heather whispered her blue eyes hardening like steal. "Revenge…"

She pulled herself free of Melodies grip, and ran up the beach of sight. And now she was alone, Melody turned to Harpier.

"Now, Harpier. I believe you have something that is mine…" She said, holding her hand out, waiting for her prize.

The black Harpy bowed its head, and closed its black eyes. Pearly tears began to fall down its human face. One by one, they fell like rain drops. But instead of falling to the sand, they lifted into the air, into Melodies outstretched hand. And in her hand the collected tears merged, until enough of them had been collected to form a small black glass ball. Holding her new toy to her shadow shrouded face, Melody smiled.

"You have done well, Harpier. Go now. I no longer need you."

Harpier who now had bright green eyes instead of black, took off and was consumed by the darkness, leaving Melody, triumphantly smiling to herself, marveling at her own cunning and ingenuity. Her plan was coming together flawlessly…

To be continued…


	4. Chapter 4: In Belgum

**WARNING! This chapter contains creepy- crawlies towards the end. If you're a bit squeamish, viewer discretion is strongly advised. **

The near full moon cast no light over the Belgian sea port. The moon, the stars, and the nights borderless sky had been smothered by the smoke of a thousand wood stoves. All through town families stocked their wood fires high with logs, trying desperately to shut out the cold embrace of winter.

Only the occasional light, too bright to be contained by curtains, gave dim illumination to the cobbled stone streets. Deserted – save two travelers gently guiding their horses through the darkness.

Van Helsing cast a worried eye over his friend. Carl had been almost mute since the events of the previous night. Almost mute, save the occasional times when he broke into sobs, whispering over and over again;

"Though shall not kill".

Before his pride made him snatch back a shaky composure, and his brown eyes staring unseeing at the ground.

Thou shall not kill. The sixth of Gods commandments. Commandments that all holy men swore to uphold when they donned their robes and rosaries every day. Even Friars. Carl, who had intended to save his friend from a blood thirsty monster, instead slew its mistress, a human woman.

An evil woman. A murderous woman. But still, a human woman.

Slowly, Van Helsing exhaled, counting the horses slow plodding hoof beats. Procrastinating. He knew he was defiantly procrastinating. He knew that if he wanted Carl back to his usual good natured fussy self, he would have to have to counsel him. Give him friendly guidance through this difficult time.

Carl needed some kind advice. The problem was that Van Helsing had no idea what to tell him. In his mind, he wondered what approach he should take.

Should he be gentle and supportive? "Now Carl, I know what happened last night was terrible. But it was an honest mistake..."- Yes. You only shot someone with a cross bow. It's only a mistake... Sneered a dark voice inside his head.

Should he be direct and motivational? "Carl. My friend. You need to pull yourself together now." Yes, that one would work, the voice drawled again. When your sure your immortal soul has just been damned to hell, a jack ass in your ear telling you to get with it is going to make it all better. Right…

But what could he say?

"It was an accident."

"What?" Carl asked, turning his face a little towards Van Helsing.

Ah, he realized. He had said that out loud. Damn it. Oh well. Now he'd started…

"Carl, what happened on the boat. It was an accident. You were aiming for the Harpy, you hit the woman by mistake. You… what the hell?..."

With a shriek, the horses he and Carl were riding began to buck, fiercely. Their screams sounded almost human, tearing through the silence of the night. Van Helsing tried, using all of his not inconsiderable muscles, to stay on the horse, but the animal's fierce kick's sent him crashing gracelessly to the ground. Next to him, Karl only managed to stay mounted by wrapping both his arms and legs around the stallion's neck and clinging like his life depended on it.

Which it did.

Van Helsing's horse bolted, braying madly into the night. Hastily, he leapt to his feet and tried to settle Carl's steed. He tensed, ready to dive any direction to avoid a kick from the stallions sharp hooves. He raised his hands slowly and calmly, trying to make eye contact with the creature.

"Stop! Stop Boy! Whoa there, easy! Easy!"

The horse paused, snorted, eyes wide and fixed on Van Helsing's own brown ones. Slowly, he brought one raised hand, palm up, to stroke the horses great nose. The other, reached up the horses neck and gently gripped the reins. He moved beside the horse, keeping well within its line of site, and moved the hand on its nose to smooth the tangled main.

"Easy, my friend. There… there. Relax now." He whispered. "Carl! Are you alright?"

Carl, quickly but shakily, dismounted.

"Van Helsing, what brought that on? OH!"

Carl gasped, falling with a PHOMP! As his foot tangled in the stirrup. He let out a exasperated oath, struggling to right himself. He was expecting Van Helsing's booming laugh to remind him of his ungainly gait. But that laugh never came.

Carl pushed himself to his feet, and looked over the horse at his friend. Van Helsing was standing stone still. His eyes squinting into the dark streets. Carl blinked into the darknes.

All he saw was the absence of light.

Thinking quickly, he reached into his bag and pulled out a telescopic device he had been fiddling with on the boat trip. It was, basically an old, badly patched up telescope he had pulled from a trash can on a whim while waiting on the dock. As the days stretched out on the ship, the industrious friar sought to keep his hands busy by patching the worn piece of equipment, hoping to fashion it into something useful.

Right now, the night vision lenses he attached to the end were a god-send. Carl raised his invention to his eye… and nearly screamed in fear.

Looking back at Carl through the end of the telescope blinked hundreds and hundreds of tiny, menacing eyes. They blinked, they glistened, they multiplied until under a thousand eyes surrounded them, white as a dead mans skin and as soulless as a hungry shark.

Next to him, something hissed. Carl jumped and blinked as a sudden light blinded him for a moment. He realized, to his relief, that Van Helsing had had the presence of mind to light a match. The relief was replaced with a new wave of horror when he saw the face of his enemies.

They varied in size. Some of them where small and thin as church mice. Some were as large and fat as house cats. Their whiskers quivered, their yellow teeth bared- soiled with god- knows –what-filth. (But if he did know, he would probably wish he didn't). Drool mingled with foam as it ran down jaws into matted and mangy onyx black fur as they slunk towards the two heroes' in the street, who stood transfixed by the multitude of…

"Rats…" Growled Van Helsing, disgusted by the sight before him.

"No.. no. no… not just any rats." Carl quavered. "Van Helsing? We need to get on the horse. Right now. We need to get on the horse and get out of here. Were… oh god… were surrounded by _Rattus Rattus_!"

"Rattus Rattus?" Van Helsing questioned. Then it dawned on him. The rats vacant gaze, the froth and foam that dripped, mange and soars weeping hideously with disease. It could only be one species of vermin…

"Black Rats." The monster hunter half whispered, half growled, stepping backwards slowly, gripping the reins tighter.

It was then the smell reached them. The warm, dank odor of death and decay. Of un-washed fur and waste and vial, vial sickness.

"_Plague__ rats…"_ Carl's voice was faint, pitched and shaky; he sounded ready to faint or throw up. His fear compounded by the knowledge that they no longer had the luxury of escape. They were surrounded.

In the night sky, long, thin arms wrapped themselves round a brick chimney. Heather, shrouded by her black cloak, smiled; satisfied with the trap she had woven around her enemies.

Her pray.

They would pay. Oh, they would pay so dearly for what they had done. For the friend they had taken away from her yesterday night. She and Paddocks "contacts" would see to that!

Raising her face to the sky, she howled. A primeval wild and blood thirsty bay that chilled the blood of all who heard it. She hoped that her two enemies would hear it and be afraid, because it was the last sound they would ever hear, besides the scuttling of tiny hungry feet.

It was the lullaby of their own impending doom.

She stopped, and laughed to her self, excited by the cry that the blond man- her most hated, wicked foe. His cry was filled with dismay and finality, and it rang gloriously in her ears as her own small army advanced towards them…

_To be continued…_

**Authors note.**

**There is really no excuse I can give you to make up for my extraordinary tardiness in updating this story. So please, to everyone who was kind enough to subscribe this story, Thank you. Please except this chapter with my apologies.**

**I'm sorry, and I'll try harder to up date regularly.**

**Until next time- **

**Urban-Story-Queen.**


	5. Chapter 5: Surveillance

Melody sat in the dark, and slowly sipped a tall, chilled goblet of red wine. She didn't swallow it right away. She held it on her tongue, savoring its taste. The wine was sweet and dry, aged to crisp perfection. She purred in pleasure as she felt the alcohol roll down her throat and into her blood stream. Sometimes, she wondered if this was the same delicious pleasure a vampire felt when they drank blood. Did they feel as… calm… as she did now? Did they, with the first suck of another's life blood, now feel the same clarity she felt after… hmmm, she'd nearly finished the bottle.

Melody pursed her lips. She wasn't prone to drink. Not to excess anyway. (Although it had been a _particularly_ good vintage.) Crossing the room, (swaying a little) she decided that she could probably blame Heather for this sudden binge. Yes, she thought. She probably should have sent Heather to Van Helsing first. If Temperance were still here… well… well if she was totally honest with herself, things wouldn't be so different. She and Heather just never got on. If she were still alive, they would probably have fought, as they had before. Temperance would have scolded her for something or other, maybe snapping at Heather, maybe having too much red meat with dinner, maybe for letting Graymalkin hound Harpier. She would have snapped at Temperance ("Don't you dare treat me like a child," she remembered she said that to Temperance a lot.) Heather would have told them both to 'think happy thoughts', (Ah, just thinking of that phrase made her eye twitch) and run outside to play with Paddock and his friends. Heather would glare at her like a dowager aunt scorning a wastrel niece, and retired to her room.

And Melody would have been left alone, in the dark with a very nice bottle of wine. Oh, and Graymalkin. Graymalkin, her favorite familiar, trotted towards her on four paws, and began to meow insistently.

"Yes, yes. Don't fuss Graymalkin. I'm coming."

Together, she and the dark Graymalkin moved through their dark 'palace' to her own secluded bedroom. Together, she and her pet curled upon her four poster bed and retrieved from her mahogany bed side table the small glass ball she had claimed from Harpier. Already, images swirled beneath the glass in her palm. Now she held in her palm Temperance's great power; the gift of sight. The amazing ability to peer through time and space and see events as they unfurled. If she desired, she could look into that little ball and see the secrets of the most humble and powerful people in the world. The secrets of a mighty warlord, planning his next strike. The identities of elite clientele visiting a Parisian brothel. The hiding place of miserly old grandmothers family jewels. All the secrets of the world were hers with one shake of a globe.

If she were a humble woman, she would have been amazed at the power she held in this tiny sphere. But of course, if she were a humble woman, she wouldn't have dared dream of her grand plan in the first place. She smiled again, as the globes surface began to turn milky white. Then the surface became gray, almost translucent. Then, an image surfaced. Murky at first, then clearer… ah. Now she could see.

In the palm of her hand, Van Helsing brought a great heavy boot down upon the head or a black rat. She could almost hear its skull crunch, the image was so sharp. The little blond man (Did he have a name of any significance?) trying valiantly to steer the horse forward, through the sea of vermin. The horse, of course, would have none of it. It bucked, shied, lashed its sharp hoofs at the furry monsters, sending three flying, and giving six more room to spring forward. It wouldn't be long now; soon they would be over run with the furry beasts. The hoard would follow Heathers command and eat them alive.

If they should escape, (and that was a pretty large if) they would surely be infected with the dreaded black plague. If that happened, no doctor in this part of Belgium could treat them for it. Melody had to admit; for all Heathers faults (and she had many) she could reap revenge that made gods divine wrath simply lame. In her palm, she watched, some more. There was brave Van Helsing, trying to avoid the scared horse. There was Van Helsing, trying to keep his blond friend on the horse. There was Van Helsing, shielding his face form the flaming barrel that landed… wait. What?

Melody watched, now confused, as from the darkness ahead of them, two figures worked franticly. One, a GIANT of a man, would grab barrels of the back of a cart, seining them around in his great arms with the ease of a bear picking up a kitten. He would place them on the ground, where a tall, slender figure ( A woman? She wondered) would light them with a flaming torch. With one swift movement, the giant man would KICK the barrels towards the rats. The flaming barrels tore through the rat army. Those that weren't crushed by the barrels were sent burning into the sewer pits from where they came. Now the giant raised his hand, and gestured to Van Helsing franticly. Now, with one swift movement, Van Helsing vaulted onto the back of the remaining horse, seized the reins from the blonde monk and kicked the beast hard in the ribs. Through the now cleared road way, they galloped towards their new 'friends', who leapt onto their own cart and sped of after them.

Now the streets they had inhabited were empty, save for Heather. She sat where she been the whole time, clutching the chimney on a nearby rooftop. For the briefest of moments, Melody was awed by the black rage that burned itself into Heathers usually sweet face. It didn't last long. Melody turned her face away from the street, and threw back her head in a howl of anguish, like a dog that's been cheated out of a bone. Tears streaming, she beat and kicked the chimney she clung to, and Melody swore she could make out the words she was screaming, over and over again:

"It's not FAIR! NOTFAIRNOTFAIRNOTFAIR! NOT. FAAAAAAAIR!"

Melody decided she had had enough. Casting the sphere back into her open drawer, she lay back against the head board, looking down at Graymalkin. After the longest time, regarding each other with cold eyes, she spoke.

"So, Van Helsing still lives… good for him." She smiled, for what must have been the hundredth time that night, and tipped the last of her goblet of wine down her throat.

"Plan B it is, then."

With a thoughtful sigh, she pushed herself off her bed, and returned to the sitting room to find that nearly empty bottle of wine. She would need a good drink when the despondent Heather finally came home.

To be continued.

**A small thanks is owed to Lullaby, who was very insistent I finish this chapter ASAP. Don't worry, your not a being a B****. In fact, thank you for the giving me a hurry up. It's nice to know you're enjoying my story. I hope this chapter meets up to your expectations.  
Cheers, Urban Story Queen.**


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